“I’m stubborn, I guess. I thought I was okay.”
“But you weren’t.” Vik took a sip of coffee. “Far from it. If you’d let me in, it could have turned out differently.”
“I know that now,” Grant said. “And I’m here to apologize.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“I never meant to drag you into this,” Grant said. “Now that I’m coming out the other side, I see how much pain I’ve caused everyone I love.”
“That’s all you’ve got?” Vik smiled.
“I bought you the fucking cappuccino,” Grant smiled. “What else do you want from me?”
“Why don’t we try my birthday dinner again? And this time, you’re paying.”
“Medical student purgatory isn’t payment enough?”
Vik took out his phone. “Hey Siri, what’s the most expensive restaurant in Boston?” He scrolled through the results. “Sorellina it is.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
“Is the teaching gig that bad?” Vik asked. “I thought it might be a good way to ease back in.”
“It’s actually not bad at all, believe it or not. But I’m ready to go back. I miss using my hands to make people better. I need to get back to the operating room.”
“The committee meets the week after Thanksgiving.”
“I know.” Grant sighed. “I may not have any patients after this whole fiasco and that stupid article only made matters worse. But I have to give it a shot.”
“If we give you the go ahead, you’ll be under supervision for at least a year. That’s the way it usually plays out.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to climb my way back. I’m not ready to give up my career.”
“Maybe I’ll put in a good word for you,” Vik said.
“That means a lot.”
“Are there any other stops on the apology tour?”
“It took me a while to work up to this one. You know this isn’t easy for me.”
“I know,” Vik said. “How’s Alison doing?”
Grant took a sip of coffee. He wasn’t sure how to tell Vik he’d been avoiding Alison since he’d come back from rehab.
“You haven’t seen her?” Vik asked, an incredulous look on his face.
“No,” Grant said, “not since March. I haven’t been able to face her.”
“Wow, I think you’ve found your next stop.”
CHAPTER FORTY - EIGHT
Alison
November 20, 2019
THE SOUND OF THE DOORBELL startled Alison. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Cynthia on her doorstep, wearing a skirt and a long cloth coat with a belt. Now that she was standing in front of her, Alison was glad to see her, all of the bitterness and resentment she’d been harboring since their argument at the craft store melting away.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Alison said. “Come in.”
“I got your voicemail. It’s so good to see you.” Cynthia stepped inside and took off her coat. “It’s been way too long.”
“You look nice,” Alison, said, indicating Cynthia’s skirt and nude patent heels.
“Oh, thanks. I got a job, if you can believe it.” Now that was a shocker. Alison hadn’t thought Cynthia would ever return to the work force.
“Where?”
“Finkelstein and Berg. They had a good opening and I couldn’t pass it up.”
“Very nice.”
“You’re speaking so well,” Cynthia said. “How did that happen?”
“When I told Michael I wanted a divorce, I made a huge leap forward. Go figure.” Alison limped over to the couch.
“Robin Weintraub told me about you and Michael,” Cynthia said, taking a seat in the chair across from Alison, “and Sadie did, too. I’ve been worried about you. How are you doing with the change?”
“Not so bad.”
“Did he already move out?” Cynthia asked.
“Yes,” Alison said. “He’s staying at a hotel in Waltham.”
“You’ve been all alone?”
Alison wasn’t sure if Cynthia was asking about Rhea or digging for information. Maybe Robin Weintraub had also mentioned seeing her and Becca together at Starbucks. Neither of those things were her business, so she ignored the question. She missed Becca, but the more days passed, the more confident she was in her decision. Her life was complicated enough without being pressured to label herself.
“I’ve been meaning to call you,” Cynthia said. “But I didn’t know what to say. Your call came at the perfect time. I never thought we’d be here.”
“Me neither.” Alison wondered if they’d ever thought about calling each other at the same time, each sitting on their respective couches, receivers in hand, wondering whether there was any way to salvage their relationship. Maybe it was time to let go of their grudges, to stop being so stubborn. Yes, Cynthia should have recognized that her husband had a problem with pills and gotten him help earlier, but that didn’t mean all the blame should rest on her shoulders. At this point, Alison wanted to figure out ways to repair relationships and move forward, rather than standing her ground and remaining estranged. “What made you come today?”
“Grant and I have been going to therapy. We should’ve started years go. Anyway, my homework assignment this week is to apologize. I’m supposed to brainstorm a list of the people I’ve hurt and try to make peace with each of them. You were the first person I thought of.”
“I’m flattered, I guess.”
“I should have seen what was going on with Grant. He’d been spiraling for a while and I chose to ignore it.” Alison recalled the conversation she’d had with Sadie about the importance of forgiveness. Cynthia was doing her best to meet her halfway, so it was up to Alison to bridge the distance.
“You aren’t your husband’s keeper,” Alison said.
“I know, but I was sort of his accomplice. I enabled him to keep taking the pills which led to what happened to you. With Thanksgiving next week, I’ve been thinking about how thankful I am to have a sister like you. Our relationship isn’t perfect, but I love you and I always will.”
Alison raised her eyebrows. “I feel like we’re in a Hallmark movie.” This didn’t seem like the Cynthia she knew. Alison had never expected Cynthia to make their relationship a priority, to own up to her mistakes and try to make amends.
Cynthia smiled. “And there’s one more thing.”
“I can’t imagine what.”
“I’d like to invite you to join us for Thanksgiving dinner,” Cynthia said. “I think it would do us all some good.”
“Are you serious?” Alison couldn’t picture herself showing up to Thanksgiving dinner alone. “Will Grant be there?”
“You know he moved out?”
Alison nodded.
“I figured as much.” Cynthia sighed. “No, he’s not invited. Sadie will be with him earlier and then he’ll bring her home.”
“Okay.” Alison hesitated. “I’m … not sure.”
“Our table won’t feel complete without you.”
“Are you making the sweet potato casserole with the marshmallows on top?”
“Just like always.”
“The green beans with the crunchy fried onions?”
“Of course.” Cynthia’s face filled with hope.
Alison took a deep breath and forced herself to smile. “Then I wouldn’t miss it.” This wasn’t going to be easy, but Alison knew she had to say yes. If there was any chance of salvaging their relationship, they needed to start somewhere. Cynthia had strayed way out of her comfort zone, so the least Alison could do was accept her invitation.
CHAPTER FORTY - NINE
Grant
November 28, 2019
GRANT WHISKED THE EGGS and added the milk, sugar, and a splash of vanilla. If he couldn’t make Thanksgiving dinner this year, he was going to prepare the greatest brunch his daughter had ever tasted, make the best of the situation. It felt good to have a few days off from work. The medical stu
dents were home for the holiday and Grant was waiting for the committee to decide his fate. He knew it was a long shot, but he couldn’t give up hope. If they reinstated his privileges next week, he’d do everything in his power to prove them right.
“Can I help with anything?” Sadie came into the kitchen wearing a green wrap dress and ankle boots. She was clearly excited to be seeing her aunt later today. Grant’s emotions were more mixed, mostly anxiety about what he would say and how she would react to him, sprinkled with a bit of relief to finally be putting the dreaded reunion behind him. Just because Alison had accepted Cynthia’s invitation didn’t mean she would see clear to forgive him. Plenty of people, including several members of the professional assistance committee, considered what he’d done unforgivable. He prayed Alison wasn’t one of them.
“Sure.” He slid her the bowl. “Why don’t you pour the eggs into the casserole?”
Grant watched as the yellow liquid spilled over the cubed bread pieces, filling in the spaces in the casserole dish.
“What else?” Sadie asked.
“A little sprinkle on top.” He handed her a spoon. “How about you do the sugar and I’ll do the cinnamon? But hurry up, or we’ll miss the beginning of the parade.”
Once the casserole was in the oven, they settled in on the couch. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as his sectional at home and Cynthia wasn’t sitting on his other side, but this would have to be enough, for now.
On the screen, Tom Turkey rolled down Fifth Avenue, a prim Pilgrim couple sitting on his back.
“His eyes are creepy,” Sadie said. Grant knew she hated this float, but he found the mascot comforting, like no matter how things changed, some would always stay the same.
“Gobble, gobble,” Grant teased, tickling Sadie’s side. “Tom’s out to get you.”
“Daaaad,” Sadie protested, before leaning into him.
Grant put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. A balloon floated across the screen, an enormous Snoopy in a red astronaut suit and helmet.
“This is a new one,” Sadie said with excitement.
“Do you remember when you were obsessed with ‘Peanuts’?” Grant said. “We had to watch the Thanksgiving special every single year.”
“With all of them sitting around the table together,” Sadie said, her eyes glistening.
“Don’t worry,” he said, smoothing her hair with his hand. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure we’re all together around the table again next year.”
“Do you promise?” Sadie asked.
“I promise I’ll do my absolute best.”
The camera switched to Herald Square. Savannah Guthrie said, “And now Broadway star, Idina Menzel, with a jazzy rendition of the classic Christmas standard, Sleigh Ride.”
The singer sang and danced in a fur-trimmed coat and cream-colored hat.
“I still love her,” Sadie said.
“For a few years, you and Aunt Alison used to watch Frozen every time you visited her,” Grant said. “Sometimes several times in a row.”
“I know,” Sadie said. “I never get sick of that movie. Are you excited to see her?”
“Yeah, of course.” Grant tried to make his voice sound convincing. “You must be as well. You haven’t seen her in forever.”
“Forever,” Sadie answered quickly.
His phone rang and he sat up to answer it.
“Hi, Cal,” Grant said.
“Hey, bud. You’re not going to believe this one.”
“What’s going on?” Grant could hear the hum of the OR in the background. “Why aren’t you home basting the turkey?”
“Duty called. When Javier Peguero comes in with a ruptured MCA aneurysm, you leave the turkey on autopilot.”
“Are you serious?” Grant couldn’t help feeling jealous of Cal. In normal times, he would have been called to operate on the Red Sox center fielder, the go-to man for high profile cases, but with his trip to rehab and pending lawsuit, it would take him ages to climb back to the top of the list, if he ever made it there.
“As a heart attack,” Cal said. “Coiled it up and the angiogram looks pristine. He should be ship-shape in time for spring training.”
“Nice job,” Grant said. “Now you can go home and dig in to some stuffing and turkey.”
They were both quiet for a moment.
“You’ll be back,” Cal said. “You know that, right?”
“From your mouth to the committee’s ears.” Grant hoped he’d done enough to prove his commitment to recovery. There’d definitely been some ups and downs, but he felt confident he could go the distance. He hadn’t missed an NA meeting in months.
“Happy Thanksgiving, bud.”
“Seriously, Cal. You really saved my ass.”
“I’d say anytime, but let’s avoid a repeat performance.”
“Agreed.” Grant said, finishing the call.
“Who was that?” Sadie asked. “Is everything okay?”
“Just Cal, calling to wish us a happy holiday.”
“Oh,” she said. “The casserole is starting to smell good.”
Grant had been so focused on the phone call, he hadn’t noticed the aroma of warm cinnamon and sugar filling the apartment. “Sure is,” he said. “Let’s eat.”
He took a bowl of fruit salad and a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice out of the fridge and the maple syrup from the pantry. Using potholders, Sadie removed the casserole from the oven and they brought everything to the small kitchen table together. After Grant served them generous portions, they each tried a bite of the French toast casserole.
“It’s delicious,” Sadie said.
“Your sprinkle was the finishing touch. Wouldn’t be the same without it.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
“Do you want to know what I’m thankful for?” Grant asked.
“What, Dad?” Sadie said.
“I’m thankful for you. I know these past few months have been hard, but you’ve taken it all in stride. I couldn’t ask for a better daughter.”
Sadie looked up from her plate and raised her eyebrow.
“It’s true,” he said. “Can’t I tell my daughter I love her once in a while?”
“I love you, too, Dad,” Sadie said, pouring an extra turn of syrup onto her French toast.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Alison
November 28, 2019
AS ALISON TURNED ONTO LANGLEY ROAD and approached Grant and Cynthia’s house, her hands started to tremble. She pulled into their driveway and put the car in park, taking a minute to gather her thoughts. It would have been so much easier if Becca had come with her tonight, to have someone in her corner. She wondered if she had flown home to Texas for the holiday.
When Alison looked up at the house, Cynthia pulled aside the curtains to peek through the window. The longer Alison stalled, the more awkward this whole thing would become.
She got out of the car and walked to the front door, using the railing to help her navigate the stairs.
When she reached the stoop, Cynthia propped open the front door to make it easier for Alison to make her way inside.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Cynthia said.
The house smelled like roast turkey, onions, and sweet potatoes. The familiar aromas reminded Alison of all the Thanksgiving dinners they’d shared, making her realize how much she’d truly missed Cynthia, and Sadie, and even Grant. She wasn’t sure if the gaping hole in her life would ever be filled, if their family would ever truly reconcile after all that had happened.
“It smells good,” Alison said, unsure of what to say.
Cynthia led the way to the kitchen. “You know Grant usually makes the turkey, so we’ll have to cross our fingers. I hope it cooks all the way through.”
Alison thought back to all the years they’d celebrated the holiday together in this house, Grant manning both the oven and the stove simultaneously. Otherwise, he rarely cooked, but he laid claim on
Thanksgiving. It was hard to believe Alison hadn’t seen him since March. On one hand, she felt ready to look him in the eye and tell him how angry she was, but another part of her wanted to hear his side of the complicated story.
“I bought the ingredients for Dad’s cranberry brie bites,” Cynthia said, opening the fridge. “Are you up for it?”
“Okay,” Alison said. The mention of the appetizer brought Alison back to their Thanksgiving celebrations as children, first with all four of them, and then how lonely the table felt once their mother was gone. “I like that idea.”
Cynthia set up two cutting boards on the counter. She opened the package of Crescent rolls and handed Alison the triangle of brie. “A little nostalgia goes a long way, right?”
They worked for a few minutes. Cynthia fit small squares of dough into the mini muffin tins while Alison added small pieces of brie on top of each one. She had expected this holiday to feel strange, but Alison felt surprisingly comfortable standing side by side with her sister.
“I love these.” Alison’s mouth watered. “Really brings me back.”
Cynthia handed her a teaspoon and took one for herself. “We’ll do the garnish together.”
They both spooned perfect dollops of cranberry sauce onto each appetizer. Once they added the final sprigs of rosemary, Cynthia slid the tray into the oven.
As Cynthia put the finishing touches on an apple crumb pie, the doorbell rang.
Sadie burst into the kitchen and threw her arms around Alison’s neck, crying and hugging her with all her strength.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Sadie said between gasps.
“I know.”
When Sadie finally let go, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
Grant appeared behind her in the kitchen doorway. It felt surreal to see him walking towards her. Even after all this time, he still looked like the same old Grant.
“It’s so good to see you,” he said. His words were pleasant, but he looked like he might throw up. Maybe this situation was as nerve racking for him as it was for her. “I’ve missed you, Blondie.”
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